


This Night is Flawless

by regardinglove



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bartender Victor, Cinderella Elements, Dancing, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, M/M, Male Cinderella, Misunderstandings, Prince Yuuri, Slow Dancing, Victor as Cinderella and Yuuri as the Prince, Yuri!!! on Ice Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/pseuds/regardinglove
Summary: Prince Yuuri can't see anything without his glasses. It normally isn't an issue, but when Yuuri goes to the royal ball without them he can't see the man who captures his attention that night and can only remember him by his voice. Determined to find the 'mystery man', Yuuri goes through the entire town in hopes of finding the one who won his affections. But what happens when said mystery man turns out to be a beautiful guy named Victor, and why is he acting like they met before last night?Written for the Yuri on Ice Week 2017 challenge and inspired bythis poston Tumblr.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! A quick note: I'm new to writing for this ship so please be gentle with me if I get something wrong, lol.

Prince Yuuri’s eyesight has always been, for lack of a better word, shit.

Really, without his glasses everything turns into a blur of colors and lines, even if said object is right in front of him. He went approximately five years of his life not being able to see anything concrete until his tutor caught on and slapped a pair of thick, wire rimmed atrocities on his face, and only then did he see things clearly for the first time in his life.

It’s normally a non issue. He goes about his day as normal, the only indication that the glasses are even there coming from him pushing the bridge up every so often. It’s almost as if he can forget that he needs help to see. The frames are big enough that he can almost get by without noticing the thin border around everything he views, and even though they are probably the thickest glasses a twenty-four year old has ever worn, nobody dares taunt the crowned prince.

So Yuuri’s sight may be the like a blind bat’s, but at least it’s never caused him any problems.

At least, that used to be true. But after the ball last night, after _him_ , his bad eyesight is the reason he’s screwed beyond belief.

“Are you really going to go looking for your mystery man?” Mari complains, breaking him out of his reverie.

Yuuri shakes his head back and forth while he laces up his shoes then turns a glare on his sister. “Of course I am.”

“And how are you going to find him, huh?” she challenges. “What are you going off of? A blob of grey hair and a Russian accent? News flash, Yuuri, there’s a lot of guys who fit that description.”

He finishes making work of his boots and gets up from the couch he’s perched on. Mari’s leaning against his doorframe, hip cocked out to one side while she balances an unlit cigarette between her teeth. If he was in a better mood he’d chastise her smoking, but her lack of support isn’t exactly rubbing him the right way.

“You don’t need to come if you’re going to complain the entire time,” he snarks back. Yuuri grabs his best coat from the closet and puts it on without preamble. “I can take Yuko instead.”

Mari takes the cigarette out of her mouth and glances at it once before tossing it in the nearest trash can. “No, I’ll come with you. But tell me one thing. Why this guy? Why go through all this effort over someone who’s face you didn’t even see right?”

Yuuri quiets and grabs the lapels of his jacket. It’s a valid question. By all intents and purposes, he’s being ridiculous. He danced with what felt like hundreds of people at the ball last night, blur after blur passing him by due to him not wanting to wear his cumbersome glasses to such a high profile event. He could barely even see a general outline of the men and women he waltzed with, only remembering certain colors or conversations.

But there was one who stood out beyond the rest. A man whose face Yuuri couldn’t see, but whose voice was like a melody, soft and accented and warm. He approached Yuuri after getting paired up with the Duke of Switzerland, a promiscuous man named Christophe known for his inappropriate and lewd behavior at balls. He was whispering in Yuuri’s ear about his latest sexual conquest when _he_ came forward, asking to could butt in and have one dance with the crowned prince.

Christophe graciously handed Yuuri over with a bid farewell, pleasantries falling off both their lips before Yuuri turned back towards the new suitor in front of him. He couldn’t see anything really, just the sharpness of the man’s cheekbones and a hazy halo of platinum hair that could pass for silver. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes were clear as day, bright baby blues bursting through the blurriness.

 _“I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting with Duke Christophe,”_ the man murmured in a low voice.

Yuuri remembered smiling back as the man’s hands landed on his shoulders, a soft violin wailing in the background as they began to fall into a familiar waltz.

 _“Don’t be. We were just finishing up,”_ he responded back, ever the diplomat at these events. _“May I ask for your name?”_

The man laughed a little and leaned in close, minty breath brushing against Yuuri’s lips. _“If it’s okay with you, Yuuri, I’d like to keep my name a secret. I’m a man of mystery, you see, and I’m returning to St. Petersburg in the morning. We only have tonight, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts, hm?”_

He’ll never forget the man calling him Yuuri. Not ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Prince Yuuri,’ but just Yuuri, as if they were old friends reconnecting after years apart. It made his cheek blush red as they fell into easy sways across the dance floor, murmuring in one another’s ear until they were both breaking out in fits of laughter over something the other person said. One dance turned into two, then two into three. Hands gripped tighter as they both realized the night would be over soon and they’d part ways, never to see the other again. Conversations became deeper, frivolous talk about their mutual love of dogs fading into discussions of fears for the future. Yuuri admitted he was worried about taking the throne one day, if he’d be a good king, while the man implied he was scared of never finding his lost love, if he was forever destined to ache with lovesickness.

They danced, talked, touched for the whole night, until the castle clocks chimed at midnight and the man broke away from Yuuri’s grasp.

 _“Wait!”_ Yuuri cried out, fingers catching on the man’s shirt sleeve.

The man turned back and through the blurriness, Yuuri made out a tiny smile.

 _“Goodbye, my prince,_ ” he whispered, then leaned in without another word and left the faintest of kisses on Yuuri’s mouth before escaping through a door and out of sight.

“Yuuri? Yuuri!”

He practically jumps out of his skin at Mari’s insistent knocking against his arm.

“What?” he snaps back.

She sighs. “You never answered my question, dummy. What is it about this guy?”

Yuuri just pulls the lapels of his jacket closer around his body and sighs. “I can’t explain it. I was up all night thinking about him, Mari. I...I can’t get him out of my head and I just need to do this. You understand, right?”

Mari appraises him for a few seconds then sighs in return. “Y’know, this all could’ve been avoided if you just listened to me and wore your glasses, but yeah, I understand. Let’s go find your boyfriend.”

He glares at her back as she walks out of the room but doesn’t comment, instead focusing on the one though that goes through his mind like a mantra as they prepare for a long journey ahead.

_I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do._

* * *

“Victor! We’ll miss our flight if you don’t hurry up!”

Victor zips up his suitcase and sits down on top of it, blowing a flyaway lock of hair out of his eyes. “I’ll be right out, Yurio!” he calls back, which earns him a dissatisfied grunt through the open window.

He rubs his hands against his pants and glances around the tiny apartment he’s called home for the last month, letting his eyes roam over the worn wood floors and cracked walls, exposed brick and creaky doors. If he were a practical man, Victor should be thrilled about returning to his large flat in St. Petersburg after living in a shoebox for weeks on end with Yurio, but all he feels is sadness about it.

If he is being honest, when he came to Hasetsu he always thought it’d be permanent. A month prior to arriving in the city, Yuuri had visited the nightclub Victor bartends at with some friends. _Yakov’s_ is well loved for its party atmosphere, and Yuuri was there with his friends to celebrate his birthday. One of them- Phichit, he thinks his name was- ordered a round of shots and it was all a mess from there. Victor watched from afar at first, feeling a fluttering in his chest when he witnessed the prince dancing along with the upbeat music, unfairly handsome in his tailored suit and pushed back hair, face looking even better without the trademark glasses that usually were donned upon it. But he only truly began sweating when said prince wandered over to the bar and took a seat, looking him right in the eye.

 _“Victoooor,”_ Yuuri moaned lowly, pointing at the name tag he always wore at work, _“that’s a great name.”_

Victor flushed red and focused his eyes on the glass he was drying. “ _Thank you, Prince Yuuri.”_

 _“Yuuri is fine; no prince,”_ he responded with a giggle, eyes lighting up when Victor poured him another round of tequila. _“Whoa, is that for me?”_

 _“Yes, Yuuri,”_ Victor replied, lips turning up at the edges. _“On the house. Happy birthday._ ”

 _“Thank you, Victoooor.”_ He giggled at the exaggerated vowels and downed the shot in one go, throat moving in an intoxicating manner.

It took everything Victor had not to gape like a fish.

Yuuri slammed the shot glass down on the bar and smiled widely. _“That was perfect.”_

 _“Yuuri! It’s time for the dance off!”_ one of his friends yelled from the dance floor, music fading into an upbeat melody.

Yuuri held up his finger and yelled out, _“In a minute!”_ before turning towards Victor again. That last shot clearly went straight to his head, eyes fluttering closed while he lolled his cheek against his palm. _“Hey, Victor?”_

Victor began polishing one of their wine glasses and hummed before replying, “ _Yes, Yuuri?_ ”

Yuuri used his free hand to pick at a loose thread on his jacket and licked his lips. _“If I win this dance off, will you come to Hasetsu and be my date to the ball? Please, Victor?”_

He practically dropped the glass. Yuuri wanted to take him as his date? To a royal ball? It felt too good to be true; why would the prince want to take a bartender to a ball? It felt impossible, but he agreed earnestly, slipping Yuuri his phone number before he got up and wandered back towards his friends on the dance floor.

Victor couldn’t believe it. He was going to a royal ball with the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. It made him grin all night long (to the utter annoyance of Yurio), and when he woke up the next day to sun beaming on his face, he was fully expecting to find a text from Yuuri.

There wasn’t one. Not a phone call, either. He tried not to be deterred, went to work as usual and put up with Mila’s taunts and jibes when she noticed him practically dancing around the bar. His mood was glowing, the encounter from the night before still fresh and new, but eventually it dimmed as two days went by, then three, four, five. After a week, he’d lost hope of ever seeing the prince again.

That is, until Yurio suggested something brilliant.

 _“Go after him,”_ he said one night while they were cleaning up, brushing loose crumbs into a wastebin. _“He invited you to the ball, right?”_

 _“Yes, but what if he doesn’t want me there?”_ Victor wondered as he placed all the alcohol bottles back in place. _“Why didn’t he call? Was I-”_

 _“Oh my god, enough!”_ Yurio exclaimed. The broom he was holding fell to the floor and he pounced on Victor, pushing him up against the bar’s edge while he pointed a finger in his face. _“You’ve been whining for days and I’m sick of it. If you don’t go after that moron, then I will!”_

Victor glanced up at the ceiling and perused it over, corners of his lips pushing down into a line. Yurio had a good point. Yuuri did invite him to the ball as his guest, after all. Why not go and track down the most exciting thing to happen to him in years?

 _“Okay,”_ he agreed, pushing Yurio away. _“I’ll go after the Prince…”_ He turned towards Yurio and placed a hand on his arm. _“But you’re coming with me!”_

 _“Eh?”_ Yurio exclaimed. _“Me? Why?”_

_“I want a friend there, someone to help me. You’ll come, won’t you?”_

Yurio shoved his fists into his pockets and stepped around him. “ _Da_. Let’s go.”

And that’s how he ended up in Hasetsu with nothing but a suitcase, a handful of cash, and a surly teen by his side.

The entire month leading up to the ball was filled with Victor trying to learn as much as he could about the city, customs, and Yuuri himself. He talked with etiquette coaches, immersed himself in Hasetsu’s culture, and used the last of his disposable income to buy the perfect outfit (a maroon, jewel encrusted jacket with golden latches poised over a simple black top and pressed pants.) By the night of the ball, Victor had never felt more confident.

That is, until he walked straight up to Yuuri and he looked at Victor as if they never met before.

At first he thought it was a joke. Surely Yuuri would remember inviting him, wouldn’t he? But after a few comments back and forth, it became incredibly clear Yuuri had no idea who he was.

 _Fine,_ he thought. _Two can play at that game_.

The rest of the night became a careful affair, Victor refusing to acknowledge their previous encounter. He declined to give up his name, pretended he was just a stranger from out of town, hoping that he could just get through this night without feeling completely humiliated. But then they began to dance, hands brushing against each other’s cheeks as they twirled across the floor. Yuuri held him closer than anyone’s ever held him before, fingers catching in the back of his jacket while he whispered his biggest fears in Victor’s ear, and he felt his heart beat a little faster when Yuuri coyly admitted that he hadn’t felt this good in years.

Victor understood. He’d never felt this alive either. With Yuuri in his arms, it was like time froze. If only he could’ve stayed in that moment forever, it would’ve been a perfect way to spend eternity.

The clock striking midnight is what pulled Victor back into reality. The noise pulled his attention away from Yuuri’s captivating eyes and he was forced to see things for what they are. They were in a room filled with people whose clothes cost more than Victor made in a year. Yuuri’s royalty, the future king of Hasetsu. He lives in a palace, has horses lined up ready for him to ride on the daily. He’s legendary and what is Victor? A bartender who lives in a shitty one bedroom apartment above the bar and has been working his ass off since he was sixteen. That’s why Yuuri never called. He knew that they could never be, so he let Victor go without a second thought.

“I have to go,” Victor whispered. He broke away and tried to run as fast as he could. He was an idiot for coming here, thinking this could be his life. Enchant a prince? No, not him. He’s not worthy of it.

He only got a few feet distance before Yuuri’s hand caught his coat sleeve though, and we he turned around those gorgeous chestnut eyes he’d been staring into all night were practically glowing, a soft smile appearing.

 _“Wait!”_ Yuuri called out, and in that moment Victor knew what he has to do before he left Hasetsu for good.

Without preamble, Victor closed the gap between them and kissed the crowed prince.

He knew all eyes were on them, but he didn’t care. His lips were on Yuuri’s, barely brushing together. It was as chaste as could be, but the fierceness of it felt like a live wire was connected between them. Victor had to hold back the tears that were building behind his closed eyelids. Nothing has ever felt that pure before. He doubted anything would again.

 _“Goodbye, my prince,”_ he whispered under his breath, then darted towards the exit with Yuuri’s distressed calls ringing out behind him.

“What’s taking you this long?” Yurio’s voice yells out, pulling him back to the present. “You gonna mope around some more or can we actually leave now?”

Victor forces a grin and gets up from where he’s lounging. “Of course,” he says through his teeth.

He hears Yurio’s unamused grunt through the window and quickly grabs his own bag from the bed. His eyes scan the room one last time, checking for any leftover items, then sighs heavily. He wasn’t lying earlier; he will miss this place, this city...his prince.

 _No, no thinking about him_ , Victor muses. It was the one vow he made to himself last night after fleeing the palace. He wouldn’t let himself think about Yuuri. The what-ifs would be too much to bear.

Victor gives a tiny wave to the apartment before stepping outside and into the hallway. It’s a quick walk towards the main doors, a few steps really, but it feels like miles as he wheels his suitcase behind him and realizes that this is it. He’s going back to Russia and everything will be as it was.

He steps outside, but only gets about five feet before Yurio crashes into him, pushing him into the nearest alleyway.

“Yurio, what the-”

“Shh, you moron!” Yurio hisses out through his teeth. His face is pulled into an expression Victor can only describe as excitement, which is something foreign. He’s never seen Yurio without a scowl on his lips.

“Why?” Victor asks.

Yurio jerks his thumb behind him and glances over his shoulder. “Is that your guy? The prince from the bar?”

Victor peers around the apartment’s edge and nearly gasps as what he finds. Yuuri is talking to one of the street vendors, an older man with greying hair and wrinkles around his eyes. He seems to be nodding along enthusiastically while no other than Princess Mari watches from behind, cigarette resting between her teeth while she clicks open a lighter. Victor can’t believe it. He’s here, fifty feet away at most, looking even more gorgeous than last night. This is his chance.

 _One that you’re not going to take,_ he reminds himself. Nothing has changed over the last few hours. Yuuri is still the prince and Victor is still a bartender, one who lives in a whole other country on top of that.

“Wait, where are you going?” Yurio exclaims when Victor grabs his suitcase and begins walking in the other direction, opposite of Yuuri.

“To the airport,” Victor states in a monotone voice. “Where else?”

Yurio scowls at him for a few seconds before curling his fingers into fists. “You idiot. Are you really going to let him go? After all you went through to get here?”

“It’s not that easy, _Yurockha_ -”

“Don’t you pull that nickname on me, _Vitya_. You came all this way and I did not waste an entire _month_ just for you to give up.” He grabs Victor by the waist and pushes him out of the alleyway. “Do not disappoint me!”

Victor feels his cheeks turn red and butterflies begin to pummel his gut when Yuuri shakes hands with the vendor and slowly turns around. What should he do? Run? Confront him? Tell Yuuri that even though they barely know one another, he’s never felt like this before?

He doesn’t get to think before Yuuri makes the decision for him. He turns around fully and his eyes pop open wide when he sees Victor. Mari’s cigarette drops from her lips and whispers something in Yuuri’s ear, then before he can get away Yuuri is barreling towards him like a rocket.

“Excuse me!” he calls out, gliding to a stop inches from Victor’s face. His cheeks blush red and he rubs the back of his neck. “Hi, I’m Yuuri, and I’m looking for someone? You see, there was this guy who danced with me at the royal ball last night and he could’ve looked like you-”

“Wait, could’ve?” Victor interrupts, because what is going on? How does Yuuri not recognize him?

Yuuri’s face freezes. His eyes dart back and forth before boring into Victor’s, and a small gasp escapes Yuuri’s lips before he says in a low voice, “That voice. Those eyes. It’s you.”

“Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?” Victor exclaims loud enough to get a few heads turning in their direction. Once the attention is on them, Victor grabs Yuuri’s arm and guides him into the shadow of an awning before letting go.

Yuuri looks mortified as he leans against the wall and drops his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you,” he mutters before looking up again. “I, uh, really can’t see anything without my glasses so you kinda just looked like a big blob to me last night.”

Victor’s mouth falls open and he perches his lips into an ‘o’ shape. Yuuri can’t see without his glasses. He never had any clue what Victor looks like because he wasn’t wearing them at the bar, either.

“I was wondering why you didn’t recognize me,” he says softly, a little laugh escaping his lips. “I guess you couldn’t see me at Yakov’s, either.”

“Yakov’s? The bar in St. Petersburg? What...oh no. _Oh no_.” Yuuri turns even redder and he closes his eyes. “Victor…”

“Yes, that’s my name,” he says. “Nice to meet you again, Yuuri.”

“The bar. I was so _drunk_ that night...but I remember you. I...I invited you to ball, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did, and I’m still a little crushed you never called,” Victor teases with a grin. “But I’m guessing your memory of that night isn’t the best.”

“Crap, that number in my pocket was yours, wasn’t it? I should’ve known! Ugh, I’m such an idiot. But wait…” Yuuri brings a finger up to rest against his chin. “You didn’t give me your name last night. Why not?”

Victor shrugs. “At first, I couldn’t figure out why you never called me. But then I thought you were embarrassed about me not being well, _this_ ,” he waves at the complex outfit Yuuri’s wearing, all glittering and golden in the light, then back at his black slacks and t-shirt. “I’m not from your world, Yuuri. I assumed the reason you never called was because you realized I would never fit in. So I didn’t give you my name, thought we’d both pretend we’d never met before.”

Yuuri lets out a startled laugh and rubs the back of his neck with his palm. “I wish I would’ve worn my glasses last night like Mari was bugging me to. We could have avoided all of this mess,” he says through a laugh.

Victor laughs back. “Yes, I guess we could’ve.”

“But,” Yuuri mumbles, glancing up at Victor, “we could, uh, start over, if you want?”

“What?”

“Y’know, pretend we never met. Act like this is our first meeting, and the rest can be forgotten.”

Victor crosses his arms over his middle and leans to his right side, head bowed to the ground. He understands Yuuri’s proposal; forgetting about what went wrong would be ideal, but forgetting the night at Yakov’s, the ball, the way they connected? Forgetting about the laughs they shared and the kiss that felt like rain after a drought? No, he could never.

“I don’t want to start over,” Victor lets out after a few moments of quiet between them. “I don’t want to pretend we just met today and that our messy history never happened. Do you?”

“No, me neither,” Yuuri replies with a soft smile flitting across his face. “But...I do want to move forward, get to know you properly when I’m not drunk or sightless.” He lets out a laugh and jerks his thumb behind him. “There’s this great tea shop a few blocks up the road. Would...would you like to go? Be my date?”

Victor feels the familiar warmth that always thrums through him when he’s around Yuuri return, and he holds out his hand for Yuuri to take in response. “I’d love to.”

Yuuri reaches out and entwines their fingers together. They bump shoulders as they wander down the street, laughing over the ball last night while they whisper inside jokes into one another’s ear. They drink passionfruit tea on the shop’s balcony and eat the best pastries Victor’s ever tasted, talking until the sun sets in the sky and stars glimmer above them. It’s all so magical, a perfect ending if this were a fairytale, but the insistent buzzing of the phone in Victor’s pocket breaks the spell twirling around them.

Victor’s eyes bulge wide when he reads the text. “Gah, that’s Yurio. He says if I don’t leave right now I’ll miss my flight back to Russia.”

Yuuri’s picking away at the last crumbs of his Warabimochi when he mutters, “About that...why don’t you stay?”

Victor’s eyes fly up to meet Yuuri’s hopeful ones. “What?”

“Stay,” Yuuri whispers under his breath. “Don’t go just yet. I...I don’t want to lose you again. Not after everything.”

He feels like his entire body is glowing. Yuuri wants him to stay. How in the world is this his life, that a prince who could have anyone on the planet is choosing him?

Victor quirks his lips up and says coyly, “Well, I’m sure that Mila and Georgi can cover for me at Yakov’s.”

Yuuri grabs his hand tighter and lets a thousand watt smile break across his face. “Really? You’ll stay with me?”

“Yes,” Victor replies, standing up so he can lean across the table and lay a featherlight kiss on Yuuri’s lips. “I’ll stay with you. For however long you’ll have me.”

Yuuri responds by grabbing the back of Victor’s head and pulling him into for a deeper embrace. Their lips dance across one another and he breathes in the fruity scent of Yuuri’s breath, melting into his touch. And when they break apart, Yuuri only says one thing:

“Forever it is, then.”

Victor doesn't hide the excitement he feels. He leans back, looks Yuuri in the eye, and repeats, “Forever it is, then.”

* * *

 

A year later at the annual royal ball, many things are the same. Yuuri’s dresses in his best attire, outdated music plays the entire night, and Duke Christophe is still waxing poetic about the wild sex he and his boyfriend have, to the dismay of the entire room. Everyone’s drinking champagne while waltzing away the night, eating hors d'oeuvres before the main meal and laughing about the latest castle drama. It’s like any other ball, Yuuri thinks.

“Yuuri! Over here!”

And yet, there are some things that are entirely new.

Yuuri turns around and flashes his teeth at the man in front of him, extremely pleased he wore his glasses tonight. Victor looks stunning, dressed in the same burgundy coat from the last ball over a freshly tailored pair of black pants. Yuuri wanted to wear something similar, and glances down at his own royal blue coat with accents to match Victor’s. It all coordinates well with the flashy golden engagement rings they now both own, resting perfectly on their fingers as they await their upcoming marriage in the fall.

“You have to try this kaduson, it’s amazing!” Victor cries out as he practically shovels tiny pieces of pork cutlet bowl into his mouth.

Yuuri laughs and grabs the plate from Victor’s fingers, placing it on an empty tray. “It’s a good thing you’re so charming, because your etiquette is terrible.”

Victor smirks and pulls Yuuri into his arms as a slow song begins to croon throughout the room. “It’s a good thing you don’t care, because anyone else would’ve had me tossed out of the palace by now.”

He nods back and leans his forehead against Victor’s. “It’s a good thing I love you, because I don’t know who else would put up with your kaduson obsession.”

“No, it’s a good thing I love you,” Victor responds, dipping his head to leave a long, heated kiss on Yuuri’s lips, “because I can’t imagine anyone making you blush like you are now.”

Yuuri cusses under his breath at the telltale redness that flares to his cheeks anytime Victor initiates PDA and knocks his shoulder against Victor’s.

“Like I said, you’re terrible.”

“Ah, but you love me anyway.”

“That I do, I lo-”

“Oh my _god_ , you guys are so gross!” Yurio caws from a few feet away, fuming while he taps his foot against the tile floors. “Why did I even come to this party anyway, dammit,” he mutters under his breath, then pushes his phone into his pocket and sulks away into the crowd.

Victor and Yuuri break out in laughter at the same time, giggling into each other’s mouths as they kiss once again.

“Want to get out of here?” Victor whispers when their lips keep brushing against one another, as if pulled together by gravity itself.

“Yes please,” he breathes into Victor’s ear.

With that they’re off, pushing through crowds as they entangle themselves even closer together. They escape the ballroom and rush up the stairs, sneaking past guards and other officials as they go. They run and laugh and stop to kiss, and when they finally reach their now shared bedroom and fall into bed together, Yuuri’s whole being feels like it’s shining as bright as the North Star.

Later that night, when Victor’s quiet breaths brush the back of his neck while he dozes, Yuuri twists around and leaves a kiss against Victor’s hair. He closes his eyes and falls into an easy sleep, thinking there can’t be anything better in the world.


End file.
